


Old Cats are the Best!

by Bashful_Bitch



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bashful_Bitch/pseuds/Bashful_Bitch
Summary: Angel can't help but appreciate Husk's everything.
Relationships: Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 299





	1. Chapter 1

Angel didn't consider himself picky when it comes to bed partners. So long as whatever John he was fuckin' had the cash, he was pretty happy. Obviously there were some he personally didn't find attractive, but that was easily pushed aside in favor of drug money.

However, he did have a specific type that he was especially drawn to.

Unfortunately for Husk, he was exactly that type.

Angel thought Husk was a total babe! He had the looks, the manners (or lack thereof) and the words that made him weak in the knees. He could walk the walk, and talk the talk! The whole package.

Yes, Angel was heels over head for the old cat demon.

Husk thought Angel was off his rocker.

Why in the name of all that is decent would Hells biggest pornstar want him? That slut had his pick of any dick he wanted, but he chose to throw himself at him? It's stupid!

And Husk wasn't interested! He thought he had made that abundantly clear.

But, there he was. The trashy spider was sitting on the couch, eyeballin' him like he was a hot piece of ass. All Husk was doing was cleaning the fucking countertop!

It made his hackles stand on end.

"Stop fuckin' staring at me!"

The arachnid smiled, sprawling out on the back of the couch.

"What's the matter, baby? Dont like bein' watched? I'm just admiring the hard work of a hard workin' man is all."

Hard working man. Hah! Husk's biggest talent was getting as much as he could without having to work for it. He was a drunken hustler, and he liked it that way. Sloth was by far his biggest sin.

If anyone was used to working hard, it was that whore.

"You'd know working hard better than anyone, I guess. Ya fuckin' perv."

Angel cackled out laughing, propping his head against his hand.

"Yeah, you're right about that, sweet cheeks. But that just means I know what I'm doin'. Why don't you come over here and see what I mean."

Husk groaned, throwing the rag on the polished wood surface as he reached under and grabbed his bottle. He quickly pulled the top off and took a long swig. The thing never ran empty, no matter how much he drank.

He placed it back down with a loud belch.

"Scuse you."

"Fuck you." He replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Angel moaned, dragging one hand through the fur on his chest. "Oh, please do."

Husk slammed his head against the countertop. He was seriously sick of this guy. Twips like him were always the fuckin' worst. All gussied up and full of themselves, thinking the whole world was frothing at the mouth for a taste of them. Just the worst!

But Angel thought Husk was the best kind of man. Husk had lived! You could see it in his eyes, his posture, his expression.

He wondered if he'd had rough, callused hands when he was alive. Probably had a silver fox thing going on back then. Lines etched on his face from years of experience.

He wondered if he had been taller than him? He wasn't sure. Angel had been just short of 6 ft tall when he died. Ooh, but he probably had that big barreled chest that Angel loved! And strong arms that could wrap around him. Did he have a beard, or chest hair?

Looking at the scruffy tuft of white fur on the cats chest, Angel would almost bet that he did.

Bet he had a fat cock too.

Ooh, Daddy~

"You're drooling! For fuck sake, just stop! I feel like I need a shower!"

Oh, had he said that out loud?

"I'm just saying, babe. You ever wanna get your rocks off, come talk to me. I'll take you higher than you've ever been."

And with that, he slipped off the couch and headed to his room. He needed to ease some tension. Thoughts of what a human Husk must have looked like swimming through his head.

Husk meanwhile was reminding himself that Angel was a prostitute, and didn't really find him attractive. He just wanted to get paid so he could get more crank.

Although, he hadn't said anything about payment...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk is a rebel and Angel loves it!

Husk was not a polite man. He was crass, vulgar, loud, and lazy. A cantankerous old bastard who didn't give a fuck about how his words affected others. No matter how many times this came back to bite him in the ass, he just couldn't keep his temper, or his mouth, under control.

This showed in the way he spoke to Alastor.

In spite of the fact that The Radio Demon could literally tear him limb from limb, he yelled and pushed just the same as he would anyone else. Every side hug, and affectionate head pat was met with threats and fur bristling rage.

Why Alastor allowed his subordinate to get away with this was anyone's guess. Maybe he simply found it amusing. Whatever the case, nothing Husk ever said or did was met with any type of punishment or consequence.

That wasn't the case with everyone. A number of people had issue with Husk's behavior. 

A certain moth girl being one.

Vaggie had attempted to strong arm Husk into getting rid of the alcohol. She insisted that a place of healing and redemption had no business serving an addictive substance to potential customers. The booze would have to go. He could instead serve non alcoholic beverages.

Husk responded by lifting his leg and farting.

Vaggie had looked appalled before gagging as Nifty quickly ran over and started spraying air freshener.

Angel had never laughed harder. The smug look on the old cats face, coupled with the angry, disgusted shouting of the Latina, had him rolling with tears in his eyes.

The scene ended with Vaggie stomping off with a headache and Husk popping open a bottle of Bourbon in celebration of his win.

Charlie handled him better, but she was still disheartened by his code of conduct.

His response to group therapy was to cross his arms and sleep, until Charlie continued to shake him awake with her cheerful clapping to get his attention. She was determined to keep him participating in this dog and pony show.

After listening to Nifty go through her entire life story over the course of 2 hours, mostly filled with her going off track, Husk leaned over to Angel and said-

"If I had to make a list of the horrible experiences I've been through, this would top Nam."

This of course made Angel snort laugh, which made Charlie pout. She then asked Husk to share some of his life story, and where he thinks some of his problems stem from.

He made a face like he'd rather receive a root canal than tell the group anything about his life.

"What's to know? I hustled people for a livin' and then I died, the end."

When Charlie refused to let it drop, needling him about every subject from his parents to his childhood, he became more irate. It came to a head when she asked if his drinking stemmed from a lost love. He threw his bottle of booze at the wall and told her to 'Mind her own fuckin' business!' before storming off.

Angel wanted to feel bad for her, but there were somethings you don't ask a man. Especially down here.

When group therapy ended, he found Husk with Alastor hanging off his shoulder.

"Come now, my friend! A night on the town with Yours Truly will perk those spirits right up!"

The old cats ears were pinned back in annoyance. He ran a palm over his face with a sigh.

"I told ya, Al. I don't wanna go to no fuckin' cannibal dinner party! It's sick!"

"You know what some savage tribes called human flesh, Husker? Long Pig! They thought human meat tasted like pork! Come now, you might like it! For all you know, I've already fed it to you in my Jambalaya!"

Husk growled, throwing the lankier demon off him.

"I said no! I thought somebody like you would know what the fuck no means! And don't threaten me with your twisted cannibal gourmet chef bullshit, Jeffery Dahmer!"

Hehe, good one.

"Oh please! I have more class than that hack! I for one know the importance of proper seasoning."

Husk leveled the strawberry pimp with a glare. This asshole was insufferable! Angel half expected him to attack the Radio host.

Instead, he heard Husk start making a weird noise. He started snorting, pulling from the back of his throat, before horking a small, hair coated ball of spit and snot in front of Alastors shoes with a look of disgust.

Alastor stared down at it for a long moment. An unnatural silence seemed to stretch on for eternity, all the while Husk stared him down with total disregard for how the Radio Demon might react.

Finally, a loud, rambunctious laugh track echoed off the walls from the taller man. Alastor himself was laughing as well.

"Oh Husker! You old jokester, you! I never get tired of your antics!"

He then hugged the ballsy bastard, smooshing him against his chest, before walking happily out the door, leaving Husk hissing and spitting like an alley cat who's tail had been stepped on.

After he got done being angry, Husk plopped down at his spot behind the bar. He reached under and grabbed a bottle of cheep vodka and downed it as quickly as he could. He groaned, scratching himself, before dozing off to sleep with his head against the counter top.

Angel smiled from his place in the hallway.

Husk was grumpy, grouchy, gross, and frankly completely unpleasant.

Angel couldn't NOT fuck him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk gets fed some good Italian food.

If there was one thing Angel remembered from his Ma, it was her cooking. He could recall sitting on the kitchen counter as she worked, telling his sister that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

She had insisted that Angel watch too, since he would need to know how to feed himself until he found a nice gal to cook for him.

He wonders how she would have handled him being gay. Better than Pops did, that's for sure.

Okay, enough of the past. Time to focus on the now!

He was going to whip up a meal that would knock Husk into a food coma! 

So, with a happy whistle and an apron that said 'kiss the cook' with 'Kiss' crossed out and 'FUCK' written above it, he strolled into the kitchen.

Only to find Alastor standing at the island going through an old, slightly torn recipe book.

The smiling red deer didn't seem to pay him any mind. He hummed a jazzy tune while flipping through the pages casually.

Right, Angel had forgotten that Al usually handled the cooking around here.

He would need to get him to leave before he could start. He didn't want anyone ruining anything, and Al came across as the type to make changes to things to suit himself.

"Ahem, Ah, scuse me? Smiles?"

That got his attention. The grinning radio host turned to face him, book in hand.

"Why, hello there! What can I do for you, my promiscuous friend?"

"Ah, well, if you could get outta here, that'd be great."

There was a moment where Al's smile seemed frozen, as he likely was questioning in his head just who the fuck Angel thought he was, but the spider quickly backpedaled before he could be eviscerated.

"I mean, what I meant to say is that I'd like to handle the cookin' tonight."

Al's smile stretched, his eyes looking a little less crazed, but still questioning.

"Is that so? If I may ask, why the sudden interest in the culinary arts? You've never payed attention to anything that wasn't between some other fellows legs for as long as I've been here."

Angel puffed his cheeks out at that. Rude!

"Hey! Not true! I do lotsa stuff that ain't about sex. Just cause you don't see it, don't mean I just sit around with my thumbs up my ass."

"That sounds more like you." The entertainer deadpanned.

"The point is, I got hobbies! Cookin' happens to be one. And I got a craving for some of my Ma's stuff."

Alastor's demeanor changed at the mention of Angel's mother. His smile still there, but his eyes went soft.

"Ah, yes. A mother's home cooking is something you always remember! Nobody can ever compete with a boys Mama."

Okaay. Call him crazy, but did Al have just a hint of drawl on the word 'Mama'?

Angel didn't have time to ponder that, as Al snapped his fingers and the book disappeared. In an instant, the red clad demon was squeezing him in a side hug.

"Very well! We shall do things your mother's way! Have you got a recipe you go off of? I'm certain the two of us can knock this out in no time!"

Aw shit.

"Well, uh, it's kinda all up here." He said nervously, tapping on his head.

"That's perfectly fine! You can just tell me what goes in, and I'll throw it all together! What spices do we need? I can get to work on those right away!"

Okay, no. That ain't how they're doing this.

"Woah, woah, Smiles! Hang on. This isn't like the Cajun stuff you fix. Italian is more about the herbs and sauces. Look, I could use the help, but you gotta do EXACTLY as I say. Capiche?"

The radio demon laughed, the sound of an audience chuckling along with him 

"Very well, then. Just tell me what to do. You're the chef!"  
______________________________________________________

After a hours of cooking, dinner was finally ready. The dining room table was covered in a variety of pastas and salads. The smell of rich, creamy sauce and fresh bread filled the air.

Angel sighed, blowing a stray hair from his face. He was pretty tired, but happy. It had been a while since he'd had the chance to cook a big meal like this.

And Al had actually proved to be very helpful! Angel had only had to remind him not to make changes 3 times!

"I do believe we make a surprisingly good team! At least in the kitchen, that is." Said the grinning host.

Angel was inclined to agree.

"Yeah! Thanks for the help, Smiles. I bet they love this."

Which meant he bet Husk was gonna love it. The others liking it would just be a bonus.

When everyone was called down to eat, needless to say they were surprised.

Charlie gasped, looking over the table in amazement.

"Wow! This all looks so good!"

Vaggie was smiling too, giving an approving nod to the tasty looking pasta salad. 

"You're not wrong, Hon. Looks pretty good."

Everyone was quick to grab a plate, portioning off different things based on what they thought looked the best.

Which was a bit of everything, thank you very much!

Everyone had already taken a seat when Husk finally slumped down stairs and into the dining room.

His ears perked when he took a sniff of the air. His bleariy eyes widened slightly as he saw the table. Angel smiled when the old cat shuffled faster, grabbing a plate and heaping large portions of creamy chicken casserole and cheesey lasagna.

"Aw, fuck yeah! Bout time we had somethin' besides Cajun food."

Vaggie gave a 'here here's while lifting her water glass in a mock toast.

Alastor huffed good naturedly, smearing butter on some bread.

"You people have no appreciation for southern cuisine!"

"They'd probably appreciate it a lot more if it didn't light their assholes on fire." The old cat grumbled, shoving a thick spoonful of lasagna in his mouth. He seemed to like the cheesey stuff the most.

Angel laughed, while Vaggie just groaned.

"Can we NOT talk about assholes while we eat?"

Charlie chuckled, swallowing a bite of chicken parmesan. "I mean..."

Even Nifty piped in. "Mr. Alastor's food sure is tasty, but it'll give you heart burn for sure!"

Al crammed the whole piece of bread in his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly while crossing his arms.

"I should have expected a bunch of white people to be unable to handle spice. My fault entirely for thinking you could eat something that wasn't seasoned with anything more than salt!"

Vaggie had to cough to cover up a laugh. She waved a fork of spaghetti at him.

"Call me white again, and I'm coming over this table."

Husk snorted, a string of cheese clinging to his mouth. "You're the only one who could eat his food and not shit napalm afterwards."

Angel was laughing to the point of being silent. Only breathy wheezing sounds coming out. God, this was great.

"I gotta hand it to ya, Al. You cook damn good Italian. Make more of this and a little less gumbo, I might actually start to like ya."

Alastor huffed, waving him off.

"As flattered as I want to be after your insult to good food, I didn't come up with this. No, our resident arachnid whipped this together."

Husk went still, swallowing hard around his bite.

Charlie slapped her hands to her cheeks, giving him the 'Im proud of you' eyes. "Angel! You made this? It's wonderful!"

Vaggie gave him a light punch on the arm. "She's right. You're a pretty half decent cook."

And he basked in the praise. It was rare that he got to be proud of himself outside of work, and he loved that they loved it. But the one who's opinion mattered most was being silent.

Husk was looking down at his plate, running his fork over what was left of the sauce. He'd eaten every last bite. When he looked up and saw Angel watching him, he coughed, turning his head.

"...It's alright."

And Angel smiled. A real, genuine smile. Because Husk didn't have to say anything.

His empty plate said enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk is an old man who suffers from old man problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all's comments and encouragement sustains me! Thank you so much!

Husk was old. He'd been old when he died, and he was old here. It made sense, he supposed. If Heaven gave you a new, healthy body better than what you had, it would be logical to think that Hell fucks you over with one just as bad, or worse, than the one you had on Earth.

Paired with the whole 'turning you into a animal/monster' thing, that definitely seemed like a cruel and unusual punishment.

The point is, Husk felt every bit the 72 years he had lived. His joints ached, his back was killing him, and his body did things without his permission.

"Goddamn it!"

Such as release his bladder while he's passed out at the reception desk.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Right here in the lobby? You couldn't even sober up enough to go to the bathroom, you just piss down your legs right here in front of God and everybody?!"

That moth girl is such a harpy. Reminds him if his ex wife.

"Guh, who's everybody? Ain't nobody fuckin' here." He mumbled, his cheek pressed against the polished wood he was currently slumped over.

Vaggie growled, slamming a fist on the desk.

"Get up and clean your mess!"

Husk groaned, reaching for his bottle. He was starting to sober up, and that wasn't doin'. Not with this broad screetching at him.

He took a long hard drink, turning the green glass bottle up high, before setting it down with a belch. 

"Nah. Nifty can deal with it later."

The demoness grabbed the booze from him. Her reflexes were much faster than his right now. Before he could try to swipe it back, she drew back her arm.

"No! YOU can deal with it, Now!"

And the bottle was hurtling through the air. He watched it fly before it met it's violent end. It made a loud noise as it hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. He stared at the stain on the wall for a long moment before redirecting his attention to Vaggie.

"... I'm gonna shit in your bed for that."

"Who shit the bed?"

Aw, fuck. That is just the last thing he needed. The eight-legged whore was here. His day is double ruined.

"Seriously, what's goin' on? Yous guys havin' a little gossip session?"

Vaggie gestured to Husk, shaking in near palpable rage. She looked like she wanted to rip his eyebrows off.

"This geriatric ball of fur and vomit just pissed all over the fucking floor!"

Angel blinked, looking over at Husk. Husk, to his credit, didn't acknowledge that anything was wrong. This had happened to him enough times that it no longer fazed him. He was too tired and had been down here too long to care.

Angel laughed, not at Husk, but at Vaggie.

"Whatsa matter, toots? Ain't never had a pet before? Is a little kitty piss too much for you?" He mocked, making a pouty face at her.

The Salvadorian girl gapped, pointing at the puddle in disgust.

"A little kitty piss? It smells like a fucking nursing home after Mardis Gras! And all the caretakers were too high on Vix vapor rub to notice the senior citizens were spiking the fruit punch with Jack Daniels from the late 50s!"

Angel blew a raspberry at her, rolling his eyes.

"Bitch, please. I've dealt with way worse. One time the director at the studio had a bunch of guys stuff their flaccid dick in my asshole one at a time and fill my guts with more piss than a teen girls mouth at R K***ys  
House."

Husk gagged. God this spider was depraved.

Vaggie facepalmed, rubbing the space between her eyes as a budding migraine began to bloom.

"Fine! Since you know so much about various disgusting bodily functions, you can clean this up!"

Angel guffawed, placing a hand on his chest.

"Me?! What kinda crack have you been smokin'? I ain't the fuckin' maid!"

Vaggie dragged him down to her level by the tit fluff. The look on her face told him that she would not hesitate to rip the fur out by the roots.

"Nifty will get the puddle. Just get this old fleabag up to his room and out of the lobby before I make a much more red liquid come out of him!"

Angel winced, rubbing his ruffled chest fur as she let go.

"Christ, fine! I'll get him all cleaned up. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Husk groaned as Angel placed an arm around his waist. He didn't want the little fruit cakes help! 

"Don't fuckin' touch me. I can walk just fine, fuck you very much."

The spider just chuckled as the cat scooted his way off the stool. His knees popped as he stood. How long has he been sitting there? The room spun a little as he stumbled around the bar.

Vaggie watched him head for the elevator with clear annoyance, making sure Angel got in the cramped box with him. As the doors began to close, Husk had enough spite left in him to give her the bird.

He saw her eye twitch as the doors finally closed.

There was sweet, blissful silence for a few moments. Only cheesey elevator music filling the air. The hum of the pulley hauling them to the upper floors were a soothing white noise. Husk could almost feel himself starting to fall asleep again, when Angel had to open his big mouth and ruin it.

"So what happened back there, anyways? Get smashed and couldn't make it to the bathroom or something?"

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"What fuckin' difference does it make?"

"Well, I dunno. For all I know, you could have a public humiliation kink, or something. Ooh, do you? Ya got a thing for makin' a mess in public, Husky?"

"God, could you shut your fuckin' dick holster for 5 minutes."

Angel laughed, that raspy, breathy laugh he had when he found something genuinely funny. He laughed like that a lot when Husk said something.

"Most fellas pay me to keep my mouth open, ya know what I mean?" He said while nudging the shorter man with his elbow.

Husk sighed, leaning against the wall to get away from him. This was the slut that made all that delicious Italian food. God knows what that sauce was made of.

"What I wouldn't give for an ice pick to cram in my ears."

The arachnid pet between his ears, scratching him like a common house cat as the doors opened.

"Hey, don't worry, Husky. Vaggie told me to get you cleaned up, and I'm gonna give you the spa treatment of your life!"

Great.


End file.
